


Home

by yespolkadot_kitty



Series: Love Letters to Mr Cavill [4]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Aprons, F/M, Kal the dog - Freeform, London, Rain, fic for a friend, just a bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: Henry's been delayed by typical weather and won't be home tonight.Or will he?
Relationships: Henry Cavill/Reader, Henry Cavill/You
Series: Love Letters to Mr Cavill [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767346
Comments: 5
Kudos: 100





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a lovely pal of mine.

The rain pounds down on the window panes of your house, the harshness of Winter taking its usual toll on England. You usually don’t mind - curling up under a blanket with Kal is your favourite thing on a rainy, cold day - but this evening you can’t relax, because Henry isn’t coming home.

_ Shooting delayed by typical bad weather - can’t make the flight this afternoon. I’m sorry. xx _

You stare down at your phone. You have the order from Dishoom, the best Indian in London, all queued up. You could cancel it, or have yourself an Indian feast to console yourself….

Beside you, Kal lets out a low  _ woof. _

“You’re right. I’d only regret it. I’ll just have tea and make something later.”

You decide to binge watch the IT crowd on Netflix instead, padding downstairs with Kal at your heels. You set the kettle to boil, your gaze wandering over the various pictures of you and Henry on the kitchen walls - one from a fancy dress party last year, another from the time you, he and Kal went on a hike in the Welsh mountains and came back happy and tired and  _ covered _ head to toe in mud.

You set your hand on the dog’s head, and Kal whined softly.

“I miss him, too.” It’s been a long five weeks, and your own work commitments as the illustrator of a popular gothic novel series had kept you from flying out to meet him for a sneaky conjugal visit (or three).

Kal settles into your lap - or rather completely across you as he is a  _ huge _ dog, all fur and muscle and sloppy love - as you start the first season of the IT Crowd. It was one of the things you and Henry had first watched together, and a fine example of British comedy. The warmth of the tea in your stomach combined with the familiar comedy lulls you into a doze, Kal nuzzling up against your shoulder.

You come to what feels like hours later to the sensation of falling - only to realise you’re being lifted. The scent of cedarwood, coffee, and Henry’s habitual verbena soap floats on the edges of your awareness. You mumble something and snuggle into a warm, woolly sweater- 

“You’re home!” You jolt so hard that Henry almost drops you on the stairs.

“Steady on,” he says fondly, dropping a kiss on the top of your head. Kal trots behind you both obediently, and you yawn hugely as Henry lays you gently on the bed.

He stretches out beside you, propped up on an elbow, his head resting on one broad palm. “Let me guess. Five cups of tea and no dinner to speak of?”

You frowned playfully. “I feel kind of called out.” You let your gaze roam over him - heavy scruff from a few days without shaving, errant dark curls tumbling over his forehead, damp from the rain outside. He looked tired; but delicious, especially because you knew that under that wholesome exterior he could be really quite dirty. “I thought you missed the flight.”

“I pulled some strings. I needed to see you,” he said softly, and the earnest note in his accented voice tugs at your heart. You snuggle into him, finally, and he’s warm and his heart beats solidly under your ear, and happiness that he’s  _ home _ blooms within you. 

“Hungry?”

“Not for food,” you say cheekily.

“Cheeky. Food first. I know you, you’ll pass out afterwards and then you won’t eat until tomorrow.” When you stick your tongue out at him, he just smiles innocently. “What? I find you endearing.” He rolls off the bed and heads downstairs to the kitchen. It’s a good thing he’s an amazing cook, you think, because otherwise you’d give him hell for that  _ endearing _ comment.

“Do people even use the word  _ endearing _ anymore?” you ask as he dumps eggs into a bowl with salt, a generous scoop of butter, and pepper.

“If they met you, they would.”

“Now who’s being cheeky?”

He just smiles at you, all innocence, and you realise more than ever how much you’ve really missed him.

You pull up a stool and watch him work. He has an apron tied around his waist, one of yours, with little pink flowers on it, and rather than make him look silly, it just makes him look even more masculine. It makes you want to tear it off him. 

But instead you eat the delicious ham and cheddar omelette that he makes you both while Kal tucks into his favourite expensive dog food. By this point it’s two in the morning, and your eyelids are drooping. Hand in hand, you go up to bed after letting Kal out one last time, and the three of you curl up on the big bed together, the only light in the room glowing from the one small lamp on your bedside table.

Outside the night is black and the rain lashes at the windows, howling against the trees. But inside, Henry’s arms hold you tight, and he’s warm and  _ yours _ and everything is again right with the world.

You’ll make him wear the apron again tomorrow. Without anything else underneath.

  
  
  
  



End file.
